


Enough

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alcohol, Dirty Talk, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, M/M, Public Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-16 10:11:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1343695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Medic and Heavy spend a night drinking, the doctor ingests enough liquid courage to tell Heavy something he’d been wanting to, but it ends up couched in language that keeps the Russian at bay.  At least until he’s sober.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rellyrie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Rellyrie).



Giddy laughter ripped through the bar, high-pitched and strained, as Medic reeled back on his chair, nearly falling over were it not for the immense, steadying hand of Heavy holding him in place. Sitting beside him, the giant shrank in his own seat, a smile working its way across his lips in spite of himself. Medic was loud and embarrassing when he would unwind and let himself get rip-roaringly drunk, but he couldn't help but find it endearing, too. He was funny, and exciting, and more than a little cute, with his flushed cheeks and messed hair, his tie wrapped around his head because he'd given up trying to untie it, then given up halfway through trying to tug it free.

“But then, experimenting back in medical school was always somewhat non-standard,” Medic shrugged, settling down in his seat and leaning in against the giant beside him.

The flothered doctor was warm against him, buzzing with alcohol and energy, and Heavy couldn't help but find it a comforting feeling, one he wished he had the privilege of feeling more often. “Da, it sounds like,” he mused, nursing a small sip from his peach bellini, the first and only he'd ordered for the evening, compared to Medic's abundance of imported beers.

“It was work, do not get me wrong, but the amount of science we did, combined with so many attractive, intelligent, youthful men of science in one place, it was also a party! Debauchery, shenanigans! It was like our own, private, outrageously expensive, academic Oktoberfest!” Medic crowed, swaying in his seat again before Heavy steadied him by tugging him back to his side.

“Maybe you have had enough, Doktor?”

“Never,” came Medic's devilish reply, a gleam in his eye. “Let me tell you of some of mein favourite... experiments I conducted in medical school. I think you will find them quite interesting.”

“Of course, Doktor,” Heavy allowed, happy to feel the warm man's body pressing against his own again. Happiness soon turned to a tense discomfort as Medic began to climb him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tugging himself up, his lips mere inches from the giant's ear. He froze as Medic began to speak.

“I did many tests, learned many things. I conducted many experiments as to how diet affects the taste of human semen.”

Did he?

“I tested for the simplest yet most efficient method of increasing the temporary elasticity of the human anus.”

Was he?

“I discovered how simple it is to train one's gag reflex away.”

Is he?

“But most pleasing of all, mein favourite finding, mein Freund, was mein own adoration for large, muscular, hairy men,” Medic purred, his voice a bare whisper, lips grazing the shell of Heavy's ear.

Heat flooded Heavy's groin, his pants so painfully tight, his chest pounding, his eyes unfocused. Dizzily, he pulled himself away from Medic, eyes wide, to see the most flirtatious, lascivious expression he'd ever seen on the doctor's face. A gloved hand slid down his side to turn in at his thigh, rubbing up its inside to rest on his groin. “Would you like to see mein findings?”

“Doktor, you are drunk. We-- we are going back to base now,” Heavy stammered, throwing a handful of bills down on the table and standing, knocking the doctor away from him, trying so hard to ignore the painful heat in his trousers.

“Ooh, are we, now? Why not a hotel?” Medic giggled, tugged from his seat by the giant and out the door, to the stares and scandal of the other bar patrons.

“We are going home, Doktor.”

“Jawohl!”

 

*

 

Heavy set down his orange juice gingerly, picking at his plate of hash with his fork. Breakfast only felt more tense as he waited for the inevitable moment when Medic would enter the room, red-faced and avoiding eye contact, unable to face his best friend any longer. That is, if he remembered anything of the night before.

Heavy had dumped the giggling, anticipant doctor unceremoniously on his bed, leaving the man , boneless and barely able to fend for himself, to sleep alone in his quarters, leaving himself to lie sleepless in his bed, touching himself. Those hot lips on his ear, the warm breath against his flesh, the filthy words leaving his doctor's beer-scented mouth, it seared into him, leaving him wanting nothing more than to take the drunken Teuton up on his offers, to conduct his own experiments on the elasticity of Medic's anus, or his gag reflex, or let him make his own conclusions about Heavy's diet. He wanted to let his hands and lips and tongue roam across his best friend's lean, hirsute form and commit every sound it elicited to memory.

But Medic was drunk. Far too drunk to be sure what he was doing, evidenced by the way he'd thrown himself so unabashedly at his friend. Heavy was a giant, but he was no monster.

Picking at his breakfast, Heavy found himself nervous. How much would Medic remember? Would he regret it all? Would he never wish to talk about it? Would he never want to see him again out of discomfort, out of fear?

Striding into the mess hall, a glass of water half-empty in his hand, Medic surveyed the room with squinting eyes. His glasses sat upon his nose, but the sunlight streaming through the windows seemed to offend him deeply. He certainly looked better-off than a man who had been so drunk the night before had any right to be. Heavy chalked it up to the same healing factor that kept his wounds constantly knitting closed and gave him super-human amounts of energy.

He smiled as he spied Heavy, sliding into the seat next to him and setting his cup down on the table. “Guten Morgen, Heavy,” he chirped, catching the giant by the eyes. “I was wondering where you were.”

Heavy swallowed hard. “Where else would I be, Doktor?”

“Well, I was more than a little disappointed to wake up alone this morning,” Medic admitted with a flirty grin, “with no handsome Russian giant to keep me warm through the night.”

“Doktor?”

“After all, it had taken so much bier to work up the courage to say something, though I can only imagine what I must have said to find myself dropped still-clothed onto mein bunk. I hope I did not offend you, Heavy.”  
  
“N—no, Doktor, never. I did not think--”

“What, that I was serious?”

“Da, you were very drunk.”

“Well, ja. But the offer stands. And now that I am sober, is there any possibility that you would be willing to take me up on--”

Before Medic could finish, Heavy's lips were on his, and he was being tugged into the giant's lap. Giant hands sifted through his hair as he was clutched close to his friend's chest, moaning softly into his mouth. When they parted, panting, neither man could control his grin. Standing, sweeping Medic into his arms princess-style, Heavy strode out of the mess hall, intent on taking Medic up on his offer.

Looking up from his newspaper, Sniper watched the two leave, and turned to Engineer, who quietly sipped his coffee across the table, chuckling. “About bloody time!”


End file.
